After Rounds
by pinkgoldpish
Summary: What happens between the HeadBoy and the HeadGirl after duties is a secret. /HIATUS/
1. Her Hands

**Disclaimer: I own no one. Harry Potter belongs to Ms. J.K. Rowling's brilliant mind :)**

No one was around anymore, except for them. Responsibilities and rounds were over, but there was still time. Still and silent, not one was moving. The two of them had been there for a while as if nothing changed. She could only hear his breathing, slow and relaxed, but she was not at all relaxed in any way. There was an awkward silence in the air. The aura was heavy, her back was stiff, but not with anger or frustration or any other negative emotion. This one was different: it was new and she couldn't comprehend it. It was not normal; she always knew what was going on or what was to happen… but not this time.

She was having a hard time trying to put a finger on what it was that was surrounding them at that moment, it was mind boggling. This was not their natural set-up but it was evident that she was the only one nerved by it. He was composed, while on the other hand, her mind was swimming with tons of questions. Her concentration was like a trance and then, the silence was broken. It was not disturbed by a random sound or a passing by noise. It was an all too familiar voice and it came from him.

_"You have beautiful hands," _he said.

Slowly reaching for her left hand, she didn't fight back. Sitting side by side, the limit was breached. It was not routine, but she had let him do whatever it was that he was thinking because it was new. She was supposed to be bright and he was supposedly dangerous, but in the concealment of the night and darkness, it was alright. As he had his questions, so does she… and she wanted them answered, as always. As he touched her skin, electricity surged through her arm from his finger tips and blood tinted her cheeks.

_"Thanks…" _she managed to squeak.

As if inspecting a porcelain vase, he wrapped her hand in his, afraid to impart pain or damage. His eyes were like a master potter's, searching and observant.

_"..I wonder.." _he thought out loud still caressing her ivory hand. She was silent as the air enclosed around them, but curiosity got the better of her and she finally found the courage innate in her to ask.

_"What about?"_

He paused. She was anxious for his answer.

_"I see you have scars... where did this come from?"_ He said, pointing to a slash on her index finger.

_"Ahhh… That was from a clumsy knife cut back in fifth grade, cooking class."_

She was embarrassed to admit at how inexperienced at handling kitchen utensils she was back then, but he didn't even notice her shame. He continued to trace her finger with utmost care, as if it was so fragile that if he mishandled, she would shatter right in front of him. His traces left an invisible trail of goose bumps. She didn't know how to react, but one thing she was sure of: she does not want him to let go of her.

_"What about this one, another cut from a knife?"_

Tracing a cut on her knuckles with his index finger. His questions were fluid, moving and flowing. She was caught under his spell, his voice was a tool of hypnosis and she was trapped.

_"Nope, that one was from a broken plate that my classmate knocked over. I tried to help her clean up but didn't realize that I was hurt from a piece of glass that went flying due to the impact."_

She was animatedly answering his questions, evidence of trance and capture. She could not contain herself and her quick tongue was rolling on its own. She knew she was under his enchantment but she dared not fight the urge because she was intrigued. As the memories flooded into her head, as though the incident had just happened a while ago, she tried to amuse herself with a small laugh, but he was not amused in the least bit. He covered the scar with his left thumb, and then his right, not taking his eyes off her hands and with a frown etched on his forehead as if the issue was of no laughing matter. He was taking it seriously, she could tell. It was obvious that the matter was of great deal importance to him, it was imperative that he know the details of each mark. His concentration could not be broken.

The way he was holding her was like a prayer, as if his warm hands could heal and erase the scars that she had. She couldn't care less about her scarred hands but the way he was touching her then made her thank the past for what happened. He continued on to search for marks and when he found a burnt part on her inner wrist, he frowned even more as if it was possible. He didn't have to ask, she knew the drill by then. Little by little she forgot how everything was new to her and now, it was as if they were doing things as a routine. She explained as though it was of little concern for her; she did not care, but he did.

_"Hot oven back in sixth grade, another clumsy moment,"_ she explained and shrugged it off.

This time, she didn't blush, silently blaming herself for what had happened, forgetting that he was observing her only for a second. He brushed the part with the back of his middle finger and in doing so, discovered another mark on her arm right beside the elbow. His movements were electrifying, her robe was at his mercy, and so was she.

_"And this one?"_

He grabbed her arm as if protecting her from further damage and as he asked her, he lifted his eyes from her arm for the first time and met her gaze. Staring right through, he bore a hole straight to her soul. She melted on the spot right there and then... She was thinking of the answer but his grip was distracting her. She was having a hard time grasping for the response and when she finally did, his determination to know the answer did not waver not one bit. As she answered, she started to stutter; her lips were failing her and were revealing her weakness for his gaze.

_"I-I uh.. I think that was f-from a hot pot party..I g-guess.."_

He didn't look away and she prayed to god he wouldn't but the things she wanted him to do overflowed her mind. Afraid that he would know what she was thinking, she redirected her gaze. Her bushy dark brown hair hid her face from that questioning look, those wanting eyes. She parted her stare from him but he prevented her from doing so. He held her chin gently and returned her to face him once more. She was back to facing him again and she felt naked under his silver orbs. As though reading her mind, he moved closer... still holding her by the arm, as though preventing her from running away. His eyes were telling her, begging her to stay. He needed her, his gaze was evidence. She granted his silent wish when she did not move a muscle.

The world stopped around them, draping them once more in silence. Her heart was pounding, and she was holding her breath. As he moved closer, every inch was in agony. She could smell his cologne; she knew he could hear her heart drumming in her chest. Moving closer and closer to her was his lips.. She knew that he knew. As she closed her eyes anticipating for his next move, so did he.

**What's next?**

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	2. Her Eyes

**Disclaimer: I own no one. ****Harry Potter belongs to Ms. J.K. Rowling's brilliant mind. :)**

It was ecstatic, blissful, and perfect. I never imagined we could share such a sweet moment of pleasure. I could still feel her lips grazing upon mine. Passion, years of frustration, and need flowed between us: from one body to the other. Need, yes, need and wanting definitely was in that kiss that we had shared. I could still feel and taste her sweet pink-tainted lips. I craved for her. I wanted her for myself, to own her. And I could still remember how her rose-colored cheeks were giving away her emotions: she was embarrassed. If only she knew how scared I was then. I didn't want to hurt her; she was too fragile, too precious. I wanted to keep her to myself if only it was possible.

The image of her hazelnut eyes was embedded in my head. What sweet, beautiful eyes. I never really noticed them until now that I've had the chance to look at her, to see her. We've been around these halls, these ancient walls for years and yet I never really saw those enticing hazelnut eyes. Oh those eyes, those eyes that could pierce through my silver heart. She had captured me with her mesmerizing smile and her tantalizing eyes. She melted the ice surrounding my heart and captured it, imprisoned it whole. No mortal was ever so blessed to hold such beauty, but she was no human. She was a goddess. Beauty and brains she possessed and wielded bravely, just like the Gryffindor she was. I had dreamt of our encounter a thousand times already, and in my waking moments, I had played that memory over and over again. It never exhausted me, for whenever I remember her kiss, it feels like I'm in paradise.

Blaise had caught me staring at her again. As she was walking down the Great Hall during breakfast, with her bushy brown hair flowing and her fragile arms struggling to keep those heavy books from falling, she caught my attention. She was on her way to the library as usual. I was normally distracted by friends, Quidditch, Potions, and other "responsibilities", if you may, but today was different. It had always been a bad habit of mine. I was not supposed to look at her, stare at her, want her; I was not permitted to. Blaise wanted me to stop, he said it wasn't healthy. I sneered. What does he know? It wasn't he who had shared such sweet agony with Hermione Granger. Not a day would pass without me gazing at her. Even from the beginning, she had caught me in a trance and tonight we would be spending another secret euphoria.

She's the girl they keep talking about in the boys' bathroom. When they speak of her name, it was as if she was from the heavens, an angel fallen from above. Every one of them wants her, but they could never have her. She was out of their league, she was unattainable. But I was the lucky bastard who had claimed her. Years of tormenting her only added to the guilt I already had. I know I don't deserve her, not even in a passing of her thoughts. They said she was stunning, gorgeous even, but when I saw her that evening in the halls, walking alone with not a single soul to accompany her, I saw unhappiness.

I was on my way to the library to return a book I had borrowed, when the doors opened before I had the chance to hold the knobs. I was so taken by surprise when she emerged that I was rooted to the spot. She wasn't looking where she was going, her head was bowed low, and so she accidentally bumped into me. Her eyes were a bit red — from crying, I suppose — and I was guessing her vision was a bit blurry, too. She must have been a bit surprised to see me on my way to the place she always goes to. I saw her reaction, but it wasn't normal for us to be in friendly speaking terms, and therefore what came out of my mouth was reflex and was mostly for mere public display.

"_Watch where you're going, Granger."_

She was clearly not in the mood to fight, not even to play along; she just walked past me and deliberately bumped my shoulder. I wanted to hold her, to apologize, to ask her what was wrong, to comfort her. But it wasn't my place to do so. I wanted to be there for her and care for her, but we were expected to do the opposite. I had to let her go.

When she turned the corner, my gaze followed her figure vanish. And as her shadow disappeared, it was my cue to move. I couldn't stand there and be seen gawking after her.

I entered the library and Madam Pince was pleased to see me. I was one of her favorites, aside from Hermione, of course. I handed her the book I borrowed and proceeded to my usual spot, but on my way there, a voice caught my ear. I turned and saw Weasley talking to Potter.

"_It wasn't my fault. I was about to tell her, Harry, and you know it. Who would've thought she would_ _react that way?"_

I was curious about what they were talking about, so I hid behind the bookshelf closest to them. I heard Potter talk and I listened intently.

"_She was hurt, Ron. I think she was expecting something from you and you didn't deliver." _

Weasley suddenly bursted out, _"What am I to her anyway, an owl?"_

"_**SSSHHHH!" **_

Madam Pince demanded silence, but Weasley continued on.

"_She could at least be happy for me, Lavender and I have something. For once in my life someone notices me, gives me attention — someone actually wants me, Harry."_

Potter put his hand over Weasley's shoulder and uttered his final words before I turned my back and decided to listen no more.

"_It's alright, mate, I can't really understand how girls think either."_

I sat down and contemplated on the bit of information I had overheard. It was him, Weasley, whom Hermione really liked, loved even. It wasn't me. How could I even dream to be the one she fancies? The time we spent so far together was more like stolen moments rather than a relationship. It devastated me to realize this. My heart which she had captured that night was now being torn to pieces.

The following morning, I wanted to see her more and more. But the feelings that had been brewing in my chest were becoming more excruciating to handle with every passing second. And as I see it, if I continue this blind chase for her affection, her attention, she would be the end of me. I needed the torture and torment to stop. It was either me or him. I longed for the truth and I was determined to obtain it. Tonight, we were going to see each other again and I wanted to grab that opportunity to face her, take the issue into my own hands and finally make things clear. I wanted to confront the matter so that whatever's left of my soul could finally rest in peace, and maybe things could then go back to the way they were before.

But deep down, I knew I didn't want to know the truth. I didn't want things to go back, because that would mean that I won't be able to be with her anymore, to hold her and kiss her.

Inevitably, the night came and the rounds for the night ended. Silence once again enveloped us in its deep tranquility, and darkness hid us both from expecting and questioning eyes. We were both spared from inquiry and malice through the eyes of spectators. The nights were our time for freedom to be who we were, who we choose to be — whether together or apart, we were most free in the night's lenient gaze. The silence was spent with a walk, side by side, neither uttering a single word. An unintentional caress was mutual upon our hands and shock was sent down my spine from the touch. Our gazes met and were held for a few more seconds before she was the one to break the connection. I slowly and silently reached for her hand and held it tightly in mine. I didn't want to let go, she was too precious for me to lose. Hundreds of thoughts surged through my brain in seconds: I wanted to speak to her, to explain, to ask, to demand for answers. But she uttered her thoughts first.

"_We need to talk,"_ she muttered, almost as silent as the way she was trying to remove her hand from my grip.

I knew what was coming. I was waiting for this moment the whole time since I overheard the conversation not meant for my ears. I was anxious and my fingertips were cold from fear; but I held my place as I did my breath, waiting for what was needed to be said.

"_**I think I'm falling in love with…"**_

**Thanks to those who sent their reviews! I hope that this chapter lived up to your expectations… and make you hunger for more. ;)**

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	3. His Touch

**Disclaimer: I own no one. ****Harry Potter belongs to Ms. J.K. Rowling's brilliant mind. :)**

I knew he would never take me seriously. It was given from the start. But even though it's her he gives his attention to, her he seeks all the time, it's still him whom I would give my heart to. It hurts like hell to see him steal glances at her in the Great Hall during meals, during Potions, even while playing Quidditch, he would first find Hermione before the Snitch.

I hate it. I hate her. That mudblood know-it-all. Why did she have to be so pretty at the Yule Ball? That time when she was dancing with Krum, I saw him gawking at her along with the other boys; his jaw practically fell to the floor when she entered the room. I was supposed to be his date but his eyes were forever glued to her all night. Every night I would comfort myself with the thought that it was me whom he shares a bed with at night, it was me whom he kisses and caresses when he needs the attention, but it'll forever haunt me whenever he screams her name when he has his nightmares. I know it would never be me whom he sees and loves. When he kisses me, I know it'll be her face that he imagines. It'll never be me.

I had just finished my rounds that night and I was on my way back to the dungeons. What an unfortunate timing it was for my partner to bail out on me. The Halloween Feast had long been concluded and now my footsteps echoed as I walked along these ancient corridors. No man or creature accompanied me in this bitter silent night. I had to go about the routine on my own, and sulking as I treaded those halls, I saw them.

They were alone, but not as alone as I was. Under the moonlight, the courtyard surrounding them was lit in a way that was almost romantic. But nothing about them was romantic at all, the air enveloping them was so heavy one could cut it with a knife. He was holding her hands and she was trying to get away. It hurts me to see him be gentle with her. Oh, Merlin! I wanted to burn her alive! She stole him from me. But no matter how many lies I tell myself, he was never mine. He had never touched me like that in years that we've been together. His gentle touch was begging her to stay, I could tell.

_"Don't speak."_

He said as he put his index finger upon her lips. He wanted to prevent her from uttering her thoughts and I could see that she didn't want to hurt him. She could never be worthy, it was too complicated. Whether she's just over thinking things or not, still the truth doesn't change: they could never be together. I held on to that truth, it was the only thing that was keeping me sane. I could never accept the fact that he fell for a mudblood like her. When he took her hand, it took her by surprise for it was etched all over her face and her body went stiff. I summoned great persistence from every single fiber of my body to keep myself from pouncing towards them at that moment. Then I saw it, the sadness in his eyes. How _dare_ she reject the Prince of Slytherin! But it was then that she mirrored his façade. He saw the hurt in her eyes and eventually let go of his grip on her wrist.

"_I get it… you don't have to say anymore."_

He kissed her for the last time before he finally fled. His strides were swift, but I could tell he was deeply wounded when she didn't even try to stop him. He left her there, tears running down her tainted cheeks. When she finally collected the strength to walk away from the spot, she went ever so slowly. I saw her coming my way and I hid myself behind the armor's shadow. At the moment, I didn't want them to know that I saw their little clandestine even though I was practically breaking into pieces. She broke down just a few paces away from my hiding spot. I heard her utter those words that ripped me apart piece by piece.

"_No, you don't get it Draco. Godric knows I love you!"_

I had to do something. I could no longer lie to myself. My feet were moving on their own and before I knew it, I was already in front of her shaking body. I voiced out my thoughts so easily that she was startled by my presence.

"_You just can't have him, can you?"_

"_P-Pansy! How long h-have you been there?"_

She managed to choke those words out as she continued to sob, worry evidently painted on her face. I didn't know why I revealed myself to her or why I suddenly felt pity for her. Maybe it was because I knew how she felt. Loving someone but not being able to have them. But anger also surged through my blood. She could have him; he actually loves her, unlike me. He doesn't just love her, he yearns for her. He _needs_ her. I wanted her to realize that, to let her grab the chance I was never offered.

"_You don't have to worry, you know. I don't bite."_

She was silent, trying hard not to make a sound as she tried to muffle down her crying. Her head was bowed low; she wanted to hide her face, her tears, and her emotions. But I knew too well how she felt; I've been feeling them for too long, I didn't need to hear her cry to know that she was, too.

"_You're lucky, you know. You have a life that every girl here in Hogwarts would die to have. You're freakishly smart, pretty… and nice."_

"_Why are you saying these things, Pansy?"_

I know it was a lot to process all in one night. Her boyfriend suddenly leaves her and her enemy is now polite. Confusion was obvious on her face. Oh, right. Why would Pansy Parkinson be nice to anyone? I was forever branded as the Slytherin Bitch. What a title to be proud of.

"_I actually envy you, Granger. You're friends with the hero Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and the Prince of Slytherin is in love with you. I'm ready to kill just to be touched like the way he touches you. Every professor practically worships the ground you walk on every time you raise those well-tanned arms of yours."_

I felt blood creep up my cheeks with just a confession of how I really see her. I honestly wanted us to be friends. House prejudices and rivalries had hindered us from properly knowing each other and even molded us into hating each other.

"_Listen to me… just this once. Give it a shot. Based on my experience, there are two kinds of things we regret in life: the ones we've done and wish we didn't, and the ones we hadn't but wish we did. And believe me; the second is much worse to bear."_

She smiled with those teary eyes of hers. I know I've been a bitch to her all those years, all the name-callings and pranks, but with the way she looked at me that moment, the way she was so vulnerable and broken… I felt that we were friends, even just for a little while.

"_Thanks, Pansy."_

"_Don't mention it. Seriously, don't. I don't want to lose my gang just because I suddenly became a softy."_

I know she knows what to do, I mean for Merlin's sake! She's the brightest witch of our age, as much as I hate to admit it. She's just scared, and a bit of in denial. But as long as she doesn't mess up, they'll make it through. I know it. And without another word, we parted ways.

The following morning, as usual, I feel like crap. Millicent had to drag me up the Great Hall just so I could get breakfast before I lock myself up the whole day in the dungeons. I didn't want to see anyone's face especially after what happened last night. I can't believe I actually gave her advice about Draco.

The hall was chattering away, and of course the noisiest bunch was over at the Gryffindor table. Those happy-go-lucky hordes just make me sick even more. I hate everyone.

As I was sulkily dragging my feet to the Slytherin table, intuition told me something was off. I didn't notice it much at first and when I did, I just couldn't put my finger on it. I scanned the table for my usual spot; beside Millicent and Draco. On my way there, I walked past Blaise and suddenly it clicked! Right beside Draco was the man that had been setting off this weird aura and now I know why.

"**What the hell, Blaise? You didn't tell me…"**

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	4. Their Ears and Mouth

**Disclaimer:****I****own****no****one.****Harry****Potter****belongs****to****Ms.****J.K.****Rowling's****brilliant****mind****:)**

I see them almost every day. They try hard to hide it from judging eyes and gossiping mouths, but they could never fool me; their effort is futile. He stares at her intently and with utmost concentration that he seems to forget that a whole other world aside from her still exists around him. She, on the other hand, shows her feelings quite evidently that those who aren't able to see it for themselves are utterly blind. Their love for each other is so obvious that it over flows to no extent. It makes me sick. The Slytherin Prince being head over heels with the Golden Trio's Rose... but if all lies and deceit are to be set aside, I could honestly say that personal reasons also back up my feelings towards the two, and it's not just about petty stuff such as house discriminations and inequity.

It makes me sick with envy that he gets to be with her, spend time with her, talk to her, and I could never be able to. I liked her from the start; she's feisty, brilliant, and beautiful. She'll never be like the others, easy to take, easy to leave. No, she was different. But compared to him, I am no one. Draco had been my best mate for years but his immature style of trying to get her attention was never my game. Beside him, she will never notice me; she will never see Blaise Zabini.

Whenever I see her face, it's as if I'm a loss for words. Her beauty surpasses all whom I have dated before, and that's saying a lot. I could still remember the first time I saw her, way back when we were still naive and raw. The smirk Draco had for her after she left asking for that pitiable Longbottom's lost toad was and forever will be plastered in my brain.

"_She__'__s__mine,__"_ he said with a grin, and I knew too well what he meant. I just shrugged and let it pass but it was what Pansy said that caught us both off guard.

"_You both know she's a mudblood, right? I could smell her scent 3 carts down. The filth! They breed like mad rabbits."_

He went silent for a while then uttered,

"_Whatever."_

But the fire in his eyes said otherwise. Even in his attempt to hide his desire by looking sideways and pretending to gaze out the window, I could tell that his wanting to have her was still there, unwavering.

Years had passed and his greed grew, but he didn't notice that mine did, too. Memories of the times Draco had been planning all the torment he would do to her just to get her attention still passes through my mind from time to time. I know, I'm his best mate; that's why I just had to forfeit the fight I knew I was going to lose. I stepped back quietly to avoid confrontation. Aside from being friends, our families' ties could never be sacrificed just for a girl, especially her.

Every summer and Christmas break, my parents would discuss my marriage with some pureblood girl I haven't even met. That's how things go, and I'm sure the Malfoy manor would not have things done in some other way as well. It is this piece of reality that seems to give me hope in some way. I knew that if I couldn't have her, he can't either. Father would be so disappointed if ever information leaked out that I liked a "mudblood". He'd kill me.

I must admit, Pansy really has a sharp nose to sniff out that I actually have feelings for the "mudblood". That morning when Pansy noticed, it was the end of everything. Years of torment that she has caused me has got to stop. I was ready to give it up once and for all. Just a last glance, a last chance to see her glowing face, and then: nothing more. I was caught starring at her laughing figure. Her smile was evidence of her delight, as if nothing in the world could ever go wrong. But Pansy just had to have the last laugh.

"_What the hell, Blaise? You didn't tell me…"_

"_Tell you what?"_

I was starting to panic. She came closer and whispered to my ear, those words that sent shivers through my spine and caused my eyes to almost pop out of my skull.

"_You like her, don't you? Granger?"_

I had to think fast, to cover up the mess that she started to unveil. I cannot let anyone know, even I myself am still in denial of the fact. No. This cannot happen, not now, not ever.

"_What the bloody hell are you talking about?"_

"_Don't try to deny it, it's so obvious! Why didn't I even see it before?"_

"_Hush! If you dare to speak a word to any soul, I swear I'll hunt you down and slit your throat!"_

I warned her through gritted teeth. Her eyes flashed menacingly; I knew she was not going to let this go. I was doomed, and there was no way I was going to get out of this. I could just see my father's daggering eyes smiling at me as he cast the Avada Curse upon my body for dishonoring the Blaise family name.

As I was vividly seeing my near end, Pansy's next words caught me off guard yet again.

"_Don't worry, I'll keep your secret. Just… talk to me."_

_Me?__Talk__to__Pansy__Parkinson__about__my__feelings?_I was utterly convinced that it really was the end of my world as I knew it. Like hell I would give her the satisfaction of succumbing under her mighty powers of sniffing out gossip. I was mentally calculating whether to trust her or not. Perhaps this "talking" might do me good in my endeavor to forget my feelings for Hermione. And I yielded, but I will not give up without a back-up plan up my sleeves.

She entered my room just before her rounds started. The lights were out and darkness enveloped the room. I was alone lying in my bed and she approached me with caution. She sat at the end of my bed and as her weight was engulfed I sat next to her.

"_What do you want to talk about?"_

Her voice was soft, almost a whisper. Concern was evident and a little bit of fear is also apparent. Moving slowly, carefully so as not to alarm her, I slithered my hand around her waist and inside her blouse. Her flesh budged a bit upon my collision with her skin but did not try to escape. She faced me, and in the darkness I could still make out her face, her eyes were directly piercing into mine. I kissed her lips; they quivered ever so lightly until she kissed me back. Need, lust, and wanting, all contained into one kiss. I knew it was not me whom she sees, it was still him; Draco, the one who broke her heart. But I could not blame her; it was not her whom I was imagining, it was Hermione, the one I really yearn for. But in that moment, everything was alright, everything was okay. That night, she was not able to do her rounds. And my secret was kept until the end.

**After so long~! Finally, update!**

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